


i'm not tired of rebuilding

by joldiego



Series: the story they will write someday [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Domesticity, Family Feels, Gen, I cannot stress enough that this is not a fix-it, Not A Fix-It, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Strong Language, Time Travel, also pre-age of ultron, hand-wavy science, it's complicated - Freeform, sibling relationships, the russos don't care about the rules of time travel and neither do I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-02-27 07:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18734860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joldiego/pseuds/joldiego
Summary: Morgan can see the exact moment the idea comes to him.She sees Peter’s brow smooth, his eyes widen fractionally, as they dart to her and then Harley before focusing intently on the tile floor, kneading his hands together until his knuckles turn white.And Morgan knows precisely what he’s thinking.Because she’s thinking the exact same thing.(a non-fix-it, post endgame time travel fic, because i'm a masochist ig)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> [EDIT 5/6/19: someone commented on the lack of context on the situation, and it made me realize that I had a lot of it in my outline but not in writing XD, so there are few little changes throughout the first chapter providing a bit more information]
> 
> here we go!  
> i was going to hold off on posting this, bc i don't have much more written  
> but it's been sitting in my drive since the day after endgame came out and i've just been itching to post it  
> im not sure what my update schedule is going to look like, but i've been maintaining a pretty good writing schedule, so it shouldn't be too long until the next update! (especially since im about to move home for the summer, and will have lots of time on my hands)
> 
> i'll probably continue to post one-shots in this series to flesh out this verse (and i can't really help it anyway, XD i'll get hooked on an idea and then all of sudden its 2000 words, if you leave me a prompt, maybe i'll write it!!)
> 
> reading the works that come before this isn't strictly necessary, but they provide a lot of context for this verse and the relationships between the characters, plus i'd /really/ love it if you'd read them
> 
> for reference, Nate is 15, Morgan is 17, Lila is 24, Cooper is 25, Peter, Harley, Shuri, and Cassie are all 28
> 
> enjoy, my loves!

**2035: New York City**

They were fucked.

As Morgan Stark took in the looks on the faces around her, the faces of her friends – of her _family_ – she knew that much. 

She also knows as much when Harley sighed and fervently declared, “We are so fucked.”

She trusted that Harley knew well enough when they were firmly up shit creek without a paddle.

Years back, a little over twenty, the Avengers had gone toe to toe with AIM and their cosmic cube. Modeled after the Tesseract, the thing could super-charge their weapons indefinitely. They could threaten governments worldwide with that sort of power. The Avengers had stopped them twenty years ago with a specialized containment unit built by Morgan’s dad, and without their jacked-up battery, they toppled fairly easily.

But just this morning, an AIM agent turned SHIELD janitor had destroyed the containment unit beyond recognition and was in the wind with the cube.

Needless to say, _not good_.

“So, what? Cosmic cube or not, we’ve beaten AIM before, we can do it again.” Lila shifted her weight from foot to foot, clearly aching for something, _anything_ , to do other than standing around.

“Wait, we need to think about this,” Cassie chided, bracing her hands firmly on the lab table in front of her, “This cube is basically Infinity Stone Lite, we need to contain it before we go storming any castles, otherwise we’ll never stand a chance.”

“Except the unit we have is totally busted, and it’s not like we have a spare lying around!” Harley raked one hand through his hair, “And the schematics got wiped along with JARVIS, like, twenty years ago.”

“Okay, okay, let’s all take a breath,” Clint replied from his perch upon the lab table, fighting the constant battle to streamline his ragtag groups of kids – adults or not, they were forever his kids. He took a breath, bringing his hand to his mouth as he considered gameplans in his head. “What about Shuri? Is she back yet?”

“Still off planet with Carol, last I heard they were on Xandar. No way she’d make it back before AIM starts throwing their weight around, and that doesn’t even factor in the amount of time it would take to build something capable of containing that much power, not without the original plans!” While Harley’s inclination to tell things how they were could often be a breath of fresh air, Morgan couldn’t help but feel her stomach drop as Harley reiterated, “We are so _ridiculously fucked_ , it’s not even funny.”

Morgan worried her lip with her teeth as she tried to decipher what was going on in Peter’s head. As the unofficial leader among New York’s heroes nowadays, she could feel everyone’s eye gravitating towards him as well, waiting for his two-sense.

He was sat cross-legged in his favorite lab chair, hands clasped in front of his mouth as his eyes darted too and fro, weighing their options. Almost unthinkingly, he mutters, “I wish-” But cuts himself off, pressing his lips together and furrowing his brow instead of saying what everyone heard anyway.

_I wish Tony were here._

She can see the look on Harley’s face too. Clint’s if she searches. It was times like this that the gaping hole left by her father could be felt the most vividly. Twelve years haven’t erased the wonder of Tony sweeping into the room, making so simple what everyone had thought to be impossible. Even at age five, Morgan had known that he was no ordinary man. He was a magician, waving his arms and solving problems left and right with his quick wit and clever hands.

And if Morgan had a bit of hero-worship issue where her dad was concerned, well, that’s no one’s business but her own.

But as she’s looking at Peter, watching the grief that she knows he always carries with him sink into the forefront of his mind, she knows exactly what he’s thinking.

Morgan can see the exact moment the idea comes to him, too.

She sees Peter’s brow smooth, his eyes widen fractionally, as they dart to her and then Harley before focusing intently on the tile floor, kneading his hands together until his knuckles turn white.

And Morgan knows precisely what he’s thinking. Because she’s thinking the exact same thing.

 _They have a way that they can access those plans, or at least the man who_ made _the plans._

So when Peter sneaks off under the guise of ‘checking out some tech’ that he thinks might help, Morgan gives him a minute’s head start before volunteering to go see what he’s up to.

Merely fulfilling her duty as unofficial intern, of course.

She finds him in storage, in the dustiest and most desolate unit, sweeping his hands over screens and buttons to remove the built-up grime, cracking open a protective case to gaze at the nine wristbands and small red vials nestled neatly inside.

Morgan knows for a fact that no one has stepped foot in this locker for the past twelve years.

“Are you gonna tell them what you’re planning?” Despite the situation, Morgan can’t help but feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction in successfully startling her brother, as he flinches and clutches the case tighter in his grasp, because his spidey-sense makes it nearly impossible.

But her satisfaction dissipates the second that she sees the look on his face, wide-eyed and younger than she’s seen him look in a long time. Scared.

Peter was her big brother, her partner in crime. Her mentor and closest confidant all rolled into one. And seeing him _this_ shaken rocked Morgan to her very foundation, rattling her rebar and knocking her off-kilter.

“I wasn’t planning on it, no.”

Morgan steeled herself.

“I could come with you.”

The reaction was instantaneous, Peter tensing as if his entire body wished to physically reject the idea.

“Mo! I can’t-”

“But you can! You need some-”

“I need you _safe_!”

“What we need is those schematics,” Morgan let her volume rise, pausing for a moment to make sure that Peter would let her go on. “And best possible scenario, we build the containment unit in the past so that it’s ready when we come back, it can ready _right now_. And the best way to do that is with a second pair of hands, and you and I both know that Harley would never let our dumbasses go through with this plan. And our only other resident genius is light years away. You know that I can do this Peter, you know that I can keep up with that tech. More than keep up! I-”

“ _Morgan!_ ” She sighs. She knows what’s coming as if they’ve had this conversation a thousand times before. Because _they have_. “Of course you can keep up, you can build Stark tech with the best of them, but that doesn't change the fact that you’re seventeen!”

“You were fifteen, not even, when you became Spiderman. I just don’t understand why it’s different now that-”

“Again with–?”

“Yes, again with that! Because it’s true! You’re such a hypocrite, you know that I can do this!”

“You’re right, I do!” Morgan froze. He’s never said _that_ before. Peter sighs, looking more world-weary than she’s ever seen him. “Just because you can, doesn’t always mean that you should. And you’re gonna be so good, Mo. The absolute best, better than any of us. But if I let you go out there before you’re ready, and something happens–” he pauses, taking a steadying breath, “–God forbid, something _happens_ to you. I could never face myself, or anyone, if something happens to you. That’s why I have to be such a hardass about this, okay?”

They could argue to the ends of the Earth about how badly Morgan wanted to join the team, fight the good fight, but that didn’t change the fact that they were dancing around the biggest reason that they both wanted to travel to 2015.

_Dad would be there._

Morgan’s not quite proud of what she does next.

“Okay,” Morgan concedes. Some of the tension bleeds out of Peter's shoulders. “But at least let me help you with this, before you go,” she looks up at the platform and its complex control panel, “Let me operate the controls for you, you know you’re the world’s worst multi-tasker.”

Her lame effort at lightening his mood with their usual ribbing has the desired as Peter gives a weak chuckle.

“Yeah, Mo, I’d like that.”

Morgan weighs her options as they set up the machine, pulling up records with FRIDAY to determine when would be the best time to drop in. By all accounts, no one in the past would remember their futuristic visitors anyway, but they needed to time themselves precisely after the unit was built, but before Ultron murks JARVIS.

It’s when she’s fiddling with the controls, making her final checks, that Peter makes his mistake.

He turns his back to double-check the breaker. He turns his back on Morgan, on the time machine, on the thick metal case enclosing the eight remaining wristbands and the little red vials.

And that’s his mistake.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He activates his wristband, the red and white suit flickering into existence with its nanotech, and makes his way to the center of the platform. “Alright, 2015, here I come! Let’s _Back to the Future_ the shit out of this!”

“Alright,” The machine makes a noise, priming itself as Morgan inputs the last of the necessary information.

She has to time this exactly right.

As Morgan flips the final switch, she activates her own wristband, a suit forming around her as she launches herself onto the platform, straight towards Peter.

“Morgan, no!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Harley burst into the room, eyes wide and frantic, just in time for the machine to activate.

And then, she feels the world drop out from under her.


	2. Stowaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two, my loves!  
> i have edited the first chapter since posting it (as of 05/12/19) to give a bit more context for the generic crisis that they're in, so a reread of that might not hurt! just a little bit more info on the mcguffin of this story haha  
> enjoy :D

**2015: Avengers Compound**

Time travel is… weird. To say the least.

Morgan feels as if there’s a thread tied into the center of her chest, pulling her feet off the ground and tugging her through an impossibly small hole, leaving her entire body full of pins and needles.

In a split second, she and Peter materialize in what she assumes to be 2015. 

However, being displaced in time doesn’t seem to have slowed Morgan’s momentum at all, so she barrels into Peter with all the force she had used to leap up onto the platform and they go toppling onto the floor with a grunt.

Before Morgan can even get her bearings, Peter is reaching to the back of his neck to deactivate his helmet and level Morgan with a look that she had never seen on her brother’s face before.

Peter is _furious_.

The look has Morgan scrambling to sit up and deactivate her own helmet.

_“Morgan Harriet Stark, I swear to fucking god-”_

“Uh?”

_Shit._

Morgan and Peter look up from where they’re sitting on the floor to see their Uncle Clint– _God, he looks young._ –standing in the doorway, bleary-eyed and still dressed in his pajamas with a cup of coffee in one hand. Morgan’s experienced first hand just how much caffeine it takes to turn her uncle into a functioning human being.

For the first time, Morgan actually takes in the room that they’ve landed in. It’s a kitchen that she doesn’t recognize, but from the view out the windows, she knows that they’ve landed in the Avengers compound upstate like they intended.

Clint is still blinking dumbly in the doorway, no doubt having seen them appear out of nowhere in a mysterious ball of light. _“Uh?”_ he reiterates.

Morgan tries to smile, but she’s certain it looks more like a grimace.

“Hello! We’re, um. Well, it’s kind of complicated but we’re from– uh,” _How do you explain to someone that you’re their family from the distant future and you need help saving the world?_ “Gosh, I guess we didn’t really think this part through.”

“Yeah, _some_ of us didn’t think _a lot_ of things through,” Peter grits through his teeth from next to her.

“Well, I’m here now, _okay?_ We did it, it’s done with.”

“ _No, no, no._ You being here was not _we_ , you are a stowaway, I did not condone this.”

“Fine, I’m a stowaway. Glad we got that cleared up. Now we kind of have to figure out how to explain that we’re _from the future_.”

Clint’s mug crashes to the floor.

Peter winces, “I guess like that.”

_“The future?!”_

“And why are we supposed to believe that?”

Morgan turns her head towards the new voice and sees the muzzle of a gun. She follows it upwards to find a red-haired woman that she’s only ever seen in photographs.

_Natasha Romanoff._

Suddenly Morgan is gaping like a fish and seems unable to form and coherent sentences, and Peter doesn’t seem much better. Only then does it really sink in that they’re _twenty years_ in the past.

Her Uncle Clint was always the one who told her stories about Natasha, heavily censored when she was younger. They all seemed like fairy tales, and now the knight is standing right in front of her holding a glock to her head.

“We have the- uh, the suits?” Peter offers, and Morgan pats dumbly at the Avengers insignia on her chest, twisting her body so that Natasha can see it properly.

“Easily faked.”

Morgan meets Peter’s eyes frantically and sees her own panic mirrored on his face. She looks between Clint and Natasha, racking her brain for _anything_ that might prove them to be allies.

 _"Oh! Oh!"_ She whirls around, pointing at her uncle. “Your wife’s name is Laura, and you have three kids, Cooper, Lila, and Nate!”

All the blood drains from Clint’s face, Natasha cocks her gun.

_Fuck._

But then she hesitates, lowering it slightly. “Three?”

“How the fuck could you know that?” Clint’s voice is gravelly and thick with shock, he’s almost speaking more to himself than he is to anyone else in the room. “Laura just told me last week, we haven’t told _anyone_.”

“Laura’s pregnant?” For the first time since meeting her, Natasha’s face betrays some emotion. _Shock. Joy._

“And the kicker? We were talking about naming them after _you_.”

That sinks in, and Natasha looks Morgan right in the eye.

“Nate?”

Morgan nods so furiously she thinks her head might pop off. “Nathaniel, yeah.”

Natasha lowers her gun, but remains tense, her finger not leaving the trigger. “So, what? You two know us? In the future? Are you Avengers?” Her eyes linger skeptically on Morgan, undoubtedly noticing her age.

“Well, _I_ am,” Peter clarifies. Morgan glares at her brother’s tone, “I’m Peter Parker. I’m sort of the leader of the Avengers in our time, in 2035. You all are mostly… retired. And _she_ is not supposed to be here.”

“And _she_ is…?” Clint cocks an eyebrow.

Morgan looks between the two of them: her uncle, one of her best friends, and her aunt, a woman who she’s never met. She can’t help but hesitate slightly until Peter nudges her encouragingly.

“I’m Morgan Stark.”

Clint’s eyes practically bulge out of his head. Even Natasha looks somewhat moved by this information, her eyes widening slightly and her posture tensing in shock.

“ _Stark?!_ As in-”

“Yup, that Stark. My dad.”

“Holy shit. That’s fucking insane, this can’t be real.” Clint runs a hand over his face. _The Clint that Morgan knows is much more level-headed than this._

“You know, I see it,” Natasha considers Morgan, she can’t help but her aunt’s gaze somewhat unsettling, “She looks like him, dark hair, same eyes.”

Morgan ducks her head, flushing slightly. “I get that a lot.”

“Wait, so you know my kids? In the future?” Clint looks baffled by that information.

“Well, yeah, they’re like family.” Morgan shrugs. Peter scoffs, muttering something about _in-laws_ so Morgan wacks him on the arm. “Shut up, _jackass_ ,”

“Oh, that’s Stark, right there.” Natasha concedes.

“ _In-laws?!_ How old _are_ you?!”

“She’s seventeen. It’s just that Nate has a _little bit of a crush-_ ” Morgan slaps her hand over Peter’s mouth, smiling innocently at her uncle. The entire exchange is just a little too familiar to her own time.

Clint presses his hands over his eyes, as if he wishes hard enough Peter and Morgan will disappear from the linoleum floor. “This is too fucking weird. My fetal son has a girlfriend. And she’s Tony Stark’s seventeen-year-old daughter.”

Steve Rogers picks that moment to enter the kitchen, sweaty and wearing workout clothes, and _holy shit, is he young_. Morgan had only ever known Steve as her great-uncle, a much older man, he had passed away when she was twelve. But now, looking to be in the prime of his life, Steve stops in his tracks, processing Clint’s words and furrowing his brow at the two strangers on the kitchen floor. Morgan sees his stance shift, in preparation of a possible fight.

“What’s going on in here?”

“ _Back to the Future_ , is what’s going on in here, Cap. And it’s freaking me the _fuck_ out.” Clint flails, his voice squeaky and distressed. Steve quirks an eyebrow at Natasha.

“These two claim to be from the future, we haven’t really established why yet.” Natasha points at them in turn, “Peter Parker, Morgan Stark, supposedly from 2035.”

“Stark?” His gaze flies to Morgan, eyes wide.

“Yuh-huh.”

“Huh,” Steve looks between them with his most _Captain America-y_ stare. Morgan had heard _stories_ about that stare. Eliciting confessions from the most tight-lipped of criminals. Its effect is no less powerful on Peter.

“We do have a reason for coming, we’re not just on a road trip twenty years in the past,” Peter finally pulls himself off the floor, reaching a hand down to pull Morgan up after him. “Do you all remember the cosmic cube?”

“Cosmic cube? I’m pretty sure I stuffed that knock-off in baby jail.”

Morgan’s heart stops. She feels Peter stiffen next to her.

_Dad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the H in Morgan H Stark is for Harold "Happy" Hogan, change my mind  
> I straight up almost made her name, "Morgan Happy Stark" but it just didn't sound quite right lol  
> next chapter to come soon!


	3. You 'betcha, kiddo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter!  
> i'm all settled at home and have a ton of free time to write  
> I also saw endgame again last night D'X still not over any of it  
> enjoy my loves!

_“Cosmic cube? I’m pretty sure I stuffed that knock-off in baby jail.”_

_Morgan’s heart stops. She feels Peter stiffen next to her._

_Dad._

He walks in from another room, looking young and more importantly, _alive_.

“What’s the kitchen pow-wow for? Who’re the candy stripers?” He looks Peter and Morgan’s red and white suits up and down with a judgemental eye.

“We’re from the future, 2035. We’re a part of the Avengers and we need some help.” Morgan speaks almost robotically. She feels like an onlooker watching herself from afar, suddenly light-headed and unable to feel her fingertips as she presses her nails into her palms.

If Morgan were able to tear her eyes away from her father, she’d see Peter faring about the same and Natasha taking in their reactions with a watchful eye before her expression smooths into one of grim understanding.

But Morgan can’t tear her eyes away.

His hair isn’t as gray as when she’d known him. Fewer wrinkles under his eyes, a little more muscle from what she can see. Morgan knows that what’s about to come to pass, Ultron, the Sokovia Accords, The Decimation, are really what ages him. He’s not exactly as she knew him, but he’s here and it feels like a punch to the stomach and a shot of lightning directly into her veins all at once.

He’s narrowed his eyes at them. Morgan can practically see his brain working a mile a minute behind them.

“Future, huh? And how do we know that for sure?”

Morgan opens her mouth to speak but not before Clint tiredly interjects, “Oh, we _know_.”

“Okay, well _Legolas_ knows, that’s not really good enough for _me_ ,” Tony meanders behind the kitchen island, casually filling his mug with coffee from the pot. “So? Lay it on me, what’s this tidbit you’re privy to that’s got Barton so convinced?”

Clint holds up his hands from his place behind Steve and Tony, as if to stop whatever Peter’s about to say, but he’s too late.

“Well, we know his family,” Peter says simply, his voice still somewhat shaky in the presence of his former mentor. 

“His family?” Steve eyes Barton before turning back to them. Clint waves his hands more frantically.

Morgan furrows her brow before clarifying, “Yeah, his wife and kids.”

Clint puts his head in his hands.

 _“Wife and kids?”_ Steve whirls around, his focus on their time-traveling visitors suddenly lost.

“Barton, _please_ tell me that’s a future thing.” Tony seems almost _unsettled_.

“It’s not.” Clint’s voice is muffled but his resignation reads loud and clear.

“Wait a second, Uncle Clint, did they not know?”

“No! But _now_ they do!” He sighs dejectedly. “God, big mouth just like your dad.”

Tony looks between Clint and Morgan. “ _Uncle?_ What, do you know her?” That startles a laugh out of Steve. ”What’s so funny, Spangles?”

Natasha smirks, enjoying this a little too much.

“Stark, meet Stark.” She nods in Morgan’s direction. “Morgan Stark.”

“Hi, Dad.” It takes all Morgan’s power to keep her voice from trembling.

Tony blinks, all traces of amusement drained from his face. “What.”

His eyes are boring into her and she doesn’t think she can take the scrutiny.

“And let’s not forget Peter!” Morgan grabs her brother’s arm, jolting him out of the trance he’d been in since Tony entered the room, his face ashen and pale. “He’s your kid too, in everything but blood.”

Tony splays both his hands heavily on the counter, attempting to stable himself. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, then opens them, checking to see that Peter and Morgan are still there.

They are, of course.

Tony lets out a heavy breath.

“Two kids? No more coming out of the woodwork?”

"Just the triplets," Morgan says seriously.

Dad looks like he's going to _keel over_ as he chokes out, _"Triplets?!"_ Peter whaps her on the shoulder.

“It's just us, Mr. Stark. She's kidding.” Peter turns to glare playfully at Morgan, but she can see the moisture that’s still gathered in his eyes.

Tony lets out a sigh of relief, running his hand over his face before contorting it into an odd expression.

“Mr. Stark? I don't make you call me that, do I?”

Peter shrugs, a small smile on his face. “It’s kind of a running joke.”

Tony hums to himself, still somewhat shaken by recent developments. Then something else dawns on him. “Wait, so he’s Uncle Clint? I really let _that_ guy near my progeny?”

“Hey!” Clint protests. “I’m not exactly rooting for _Uncle Tony_ around my kids, either.”

Tony points at him accusingly. “That still doesn’t make any sense, that you’re a father. I’m not sure I believe that. You still hide in my vents, they’re not meant for human occupancy, you know.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a great father. _Your_ kid’s the one corrupting mine!”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah! Apparently, my unborn son’s got a big ‘ol crush on your _Stark sprog_ , over there!”

Tony’s jaw drops, an outraged sound escaping his throat

Morgan buries her face in her hands, whining, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Next to her, Peter is cracking up. _Asshole._

“Nuh-uh. Barton, tell your future son to keep his grubby, hunger games mitts off my daughter.”

“He’s a fetus.”

“She’s not even a twinkle in my eye, you think I care? I will not have any member of your circus preying on my offspring.”

Peter helpfully interjects, “Oh, if anyone’s preying it’s Mo, she’s got two years on him.”

Morgan smacks him upside the head.

Clint cocks his head to one side. “Wait a second, two years? That would make you two years old right now, in the present.” _Oh, shit._

Tony’s eyes bug out of his head, his face going pale. “ _Two years old?_ You’re out there, somewhere in the world, two years old, and I’ve never met you?” He sounds horrified at the thought.

Morgan turns to glare at Peter who, in his defense, looks suitably guilty.

“Well, no. I was born in 2018.” Her dad looks relieved, but still thoroughly baffled.

“Then how are you two years older than my son?” Clint looks equally lost.

Somehow, _oh, half the universe’s population was snapped out of existence for five years by a maniacal titan and two of you are killed in the process of defeating him_ , doesn’t seem like the best information to share.

Morgan sighs. “That’s a really, _really_ long story that you’d probably rather not hear.”

“Well, that’s not foreboding at all.”

“I know how that sounds, but there are some things you’d rather not know,” A lingering question at the edge of Morgan’s mind provides the perfect opportunity to change the subject. “And anyway, I’m still stuck on how _none of you_ knew about Uncle Clint’s family? What is _with_ that?”

“It was to keep them safe. Hardly anyone knows they exist.” Clint crosses his arms, looking defensive.

Morgan scoffs. “Safe from your family?”

The way that Clint screws up his face skeptically and snorts, “Family?!” has Morgan reeling.

Tony takes a sip of coffee, countering plainly, “We’re really more _work friends_ , kid.”

“That’s fucking dumb.”

“Language!” Chide both Peter and Tony at once. Tony seems startled by his outburst and Steve turns to him with the most shit-eating grin on his face.

“Shut up, Rogers.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Sure, Cap. So, I take it you two are here for a reason?” Tony takes a seat at the kitchen island. “You mentioned the cosmic cube.”

“Yeah,” Peter responds, a little bit more secure in himself to be talking shop. “AIM’s stolen the cube from SHIELD, back in our time. The containment unit that you guys built is busted beyond repair, but the schematics are lost and we’re on too much of a time crunch to develop another one.”

“So you travel back to 2015, and not only do you get the plans, but extra time and extra help in building it, then you return to your time and you’re ready to kick AIM ass,” Tony surmises.

“Exactly.” There’s a look of quiet awe on Peter’s face as if he’s sixteen again and hanging on to his mentor’s every word and plan.

“So you’ll help?” Morgan looks hopefully at her dad, meeting his eyes; Eyes that she’s seen in the mirror every day for seventeen years. 

Then he smiles. And Morgan swears it pushes all the air out of her chest.

“You ‘betcha, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if there's any specific interactions you'd like to see, let me know!  
> i have a vague outline and some chapters written, but I have a lot of leeway to add things that you guys would like to see!


	4. Scrambled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for your comments! they're truly my lifeblood when it comes to working on this XD and a bunch of you gave me amazing ideas that i'm really excited about writing!  
> here's the longest chapter yet! i got on a roll with this one, so more to come soon! <3

There’s something incredibly surreal about the subsequent breakfast that Morgan and Peter share with the Avengers.

Between AIM and their impromptu trip to the past, they're still on red-alert, Morgan's fight or flight response fluttering in her chest as she wrings her hands to stop them from shaking. And of course the Avengers are wary of them, but this is nowhere near the most bizarre thing they have ever experienced, so they settle in to work their normal morning routine around their unexpected guests.

So basically Morgan is still vibrating with nerves in her seat and Captain America is frying up bacon and eggs in his workout clothes, occasionally glancing at her and Peter in disbelief.

Surreal.

“Do you two drink coffee?” Tony asks as he fills up his mug _again_. Mom had always told her that Tony lived and breathed coffee, but seeing him start in on what she assumes to be his third cup this morning puts her own caffeine addiction into perspective.

Peter is clearly thinking the same thing as he scoffs, “I’m good with tea, Morgan’ll take her coffee through an IV.”

“Is that a future thing? Cause I’m so in.” Morgan doesn’t think he’s joking.

“Let me be the first to veto that.” Natasha deadpans as she begins to brew two mugs of tea.

“It’s not a thing, Peter’s just being a doofus because he thinks I drink too much coffee. I’ll take mine in a _mug_ with milk and sugar, please.”

Tony starts fixing her drink and Clint narrows his eyes at Morgan. “I’m conflicted because the coffee addiction is very Stark, but she appears to be…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “ _Polite_.”

“Wow, okay. Tell me how you really feel, Barton.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I always have.”

Natasha smirks at that, Steve snorts before ducking his head into the pan of bacon when Tony glares at him.

“You’re all traitors, don’t slander me in front of my kids.” Tony puts the mug down in front of Morgan before sliding into the chair opposite, she inhales it greedily causing Peter to snigger at her.

“You forget that they already know you, Stark, there’s no fooling your own kids.” Clint points out, and Morgan can’t find it in herself to correct him and say, _she doesn’t really know him_.

“For all you know, I’ve cleaned up my act! Maybe I’m drinking kale smoothies and driving a minivan.”

“That’s something I’d a pay to see.” Clint reaches for a piece of bacon from where Steve’s putting them up to cool, but Steve slaps his hand away. 

“Come on, Barton, be a good influence on your niece and nephew.”

“Hey, the same goes for me! They already know me, I’ve got nothing to prove.”

Morgan wants to push his buttons and point out that the Uncle Clint she knows is a bit a less childish, mainly because teasing him is something that's so achingly familiar, but then it occurs to her that this shift is likely due to the whole _thinking your family dead for five years_ thing and she gets too wrapped up in her thoughts to say anything at all. Then Steve is serving up a huge platter of scrambled eggs and bacon, so they fall into a mostly comfortable silence as the tuck in, Tony tapping away at something on his tablet.

Morgan munches absentmindedly on a single piece of bacon, her appetite pretty much gone, as she looks around the table.

While the site of her dad, alive and well, makes Morgan feel as if her heart is bursting, it also leaves her with a weird sinking feeling her stomach. Other than Peter and Clint, she’s at a table full of dead people. And there’s something deeply unsettling about that, even if they are family.

She notices Natasha watching her with narrowed eyes, but it’s not a suspicious expression. It’s thoughtful. It reminds Morgan of the way that Peter looks a chemical formula, calculating but confident in his ability to pick out any errors. And then it occurs to Morgan that Natasha is a masterful spy, capable of using anyone’s body language to read them like an open book.

_That can’t be good._

Natasha must see the panic in Morgan’s expression because she tilts her head, a question on her face that Morgan can’t decipher.

But Morgan is saved from having a weird-ass face conversation with her dead, super-spy aunt when Peter cuts through the silence, asking, “So, where are Bruce and Thor?”

“Bruce is down in the lab, woke up early to get a head-start on some project, Thor’s in Asgard, but he’s due back tomorrow afternoon,” Tony answers through a mouthful of eggs, causing Steve to throw a grossed-out look his way, but Tony appears not to notice as he gets a thoughtful look on his face. “So, you two really know all these guys? In the future?”

Morgan exchanges a look with Peter, and once again can’t manage to say, _not really because most of you are dead_ , so she shrugs and says the most truthful thing she can. “You guys are family.”

Tony hums and furrows his brow before taking another bite of scrambled eggs.

It baffles Morgan that they can do this whole domestic morning dance without really acknowledging what they are.

Because she saw the way they ducked and weaved around each other as they set the table and passed food around, knowing who would be approaching the table with a hot plate and who needed the salt or a butter knife at every moment. They were a well-oiled domestic machine, just like Peter and Morgan’s team back in 2035.

The distinct difference being how unbelievably dense Morgan’s present company is.

One of her mom’s sayings, _I’ve found that some of the smartest people in the world are also the dumbest_ , floats to the front of Morgan’s mind.

She smirks into her coffee. _They’re a family. They’re just too emotionally stunted to realize._

After they’ve cleaned up breakfast, clearing away dishes and leftovers with the same practice and familiarity as earlier, Tony lays his tablet on the table, pulling up a hologram of what Morgan assumes to be are the designs for the containment unit.

“The construction of the unit is pretty simple, but once we pour the internal framework it has to set for forty-eight hours, so building this thing is really more of a waiting game,” He uses his hands to blow apart to construction so they can see all the individual pieces. “Pretty lucky that you guys have all the time in the world.”

Peter’s perusing the design, but Morgan’s more focused on the tablet, leaning to get a closer look.

“Um, the plans are up here, kiddo.” Tony gestures to the blue imagery.

“Sorry, sorry,” Morgan apologizes absentmindedly, “It’s just so cool, this thing’s an antique!” She thinks it’s been years she’s seen a tablet used in their lab for working through designs rather than a foldable mat.

Tony gets a look on his face as though he’s smelling something particularly bad. Steve laughs.

“You’re lucky you’re my kid, I’ll have you know that’s cutting edge technology.” He shuts off the tablet and scoops it up, almost defensive, but Morgan can see his amusement in the slightly upturned corners of his mouth. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be from twenty years in the future.”

And with that he starts down to the lab, leaving the rest of them to trail after him.

* * *

Now, Morgan likes to think that she’s good at thinking on her feet.

Good at feeding Clint a believable excuse when Lila’s too hungover to make it in for sparring practice, good at covering for Peter when he _promised_ MJ he wouldn’t patrol that night, good at convincing Nate that it’s his turn to wash the dishes at their weekly Avengers Family Dinner.

But when they’re led down to the lab to start working on the containment unit, the rest of the team tagging along, due to varying combinations of fascination and mistrust, Morgan sees Bruce and subsequently _loses her shit_.

The Uncle Bruce that Morgan knows is eight feet tall and perpetually green, and one of the sappiest people in all the galaxy. He’s the best partner for playing chicken fight in the lake and her favorite person to steal clothing from, as his oversized cardigans make the best blankets. He’s one of biggest dorks that Morgan knows, both by standards of dorkiness and _actual size_ , so he’s always on hand to help with her chemistry or physics homework when he’s looking after her. Sure, she knows on some level that Bruce was once a pretty normal looking dude, but seeing old pictures is very different from being confronted with this miniature version of her uncle.

Tony can barely get through an abridged explanation of the rather eventful morning they’ve had (Bruce looks sufficiently bugged out at the presence of one of his best friend’s future children.) before Morgan is spluttering and doubling over with her hands on her knees as she laughs.

_He’s just so small._

She manages to squeak as much through her giggles along with a half-hearted apology and Peter wacks her on the arm, although he’s not doing a much better job at containing his laughter.

“You’re awful at this,” Peter scolds weakly, “You suck, you might as well just tell them everything.”

“It’s not like they’ll remember!” She composes herself briefly only to crack up upon a second look at her uncle. “It’s just-” She manages through her gasping snickers, _“Where’s the rest of him?”_ Peter loses it right along with her at that.

Bruce looks unsettled, to say the least. “Care to elaborate? On whatever that means?”

“More importantly,” Steve cuts in, crossing his massive arms, “What do you mean we won’t remember?”

That reminder of where _exactly_ they are at the moment sobers them up enough for Peter to explain, “Well, by all accounts back in our time, as long as nothing is catastrophically altered in the past, it has no effect on the future. Time is like a rubber-band, it just wants to snap back to the way that it was, so that gives us a little bit of wiggle room in how much we can stretch it. When the timeline reverts, it’ll pretty much erase everything that happened since Morgan and I arrived to the moment that we leave.”

“Huh,” Morgan can see the gears turning in her dad’s head as he eyes the devices on each of their wrists, “Any chance I can take a look at-”

“Not a chance, Mr. Stark,” Peter smirks, even if his eyes are a little too bright, falling easily back into the teasing banter he always shared with his mentor.

Tony pouts playfully before clapping his hands together. “Alright, then. Let’s build a box for a cube.”

2015 might be as unsettling and crazy as it is remarkable. But when Morgan sees the look on her brother’s face as he and Tony start to discuss the blueprints, she can’t bring herself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> title from Arms Unfolding by dodie  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading!


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